Work Text:
Dean stared at the cell phone in his hand. More specifically, he stared at the entry in his contacts. Jo Harvelle. He had one month left. He'd been on a whirlwind tour of his bucket list and he'd checked most of the items off. A lot of them had felt empty, but it was easier to pretend he was having fun and do just about anything to keep his mind off what was coming at the end of that countdown. And he really needed Sam to believe that it was okay. That he was okay.
There was a part of him that had held onto the hope that they'd run into her on a hunt somewhere. That he'd get the chance to see her again, maybe trade barbs about her taste in music or whatever. He wanted to call her right now, just to hear her voice one last time. But what would he say really? He never was much for goodbyes and it wasn't fair to put this on her. It was better for Jo and Ellen to find out after the fact, minus the details of the how or the why.
It wasn't fair to call her right now, to make it seem like maybe there was hope for a tomorrow for them. She deserved better than that. Hell, even before this, she'd deserved a lot better than he could offer.
"Sorry Jo," he said quietly as he closed the phone and pocketed it. "I guess we never will find that right time, right place."